


Unmarked

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Halloween, Horror, M/M, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: People have been going missing, yadda yadda yadda, only common link is a shifty Halloween store. You know. The usual. Until Dean goes missing too. On the hunt to find him, Sam and Castiel find themselves hunted in turn, driven into a darker game in a forest full of wild magic. Only Sam has the means to save them all, but his choice could cost one of them - or all of them - a terrible price.





	Unmarked

Nobody thinks twice about the Halloween shop.

You know the one.

It pops up inside the carcass of a Sears or a Barnes & Noble when October starts. You don't remember when it got there. An orange banner covers the witness marks of the previous owner's sign, advertising cheap costumes and Halloween decorations.

The insides smell like latex and fog machine solution and cardboard. You can find an outfit made of sequins and bravado for fifteen bucks, a thousand scary clown masks, foam machetes, and bottles of fake blood.

You don't recognize anyone who works there. By November, it's gone.

Reality gets fuzzy around places like this. Walking into a Halloween shop - places with names like 'Nightmare Central,' and 'Fright Factory' and 'Spirits & Ghouls' - is a step inside another world. It's a little spooky; the delicious creep of dark empty buildings. Of old, silent houses.

You don't remember what day you went, but you remember going.

You love the Halloween store.

Until you don't come home.

 

* * *

 

The night rode Sam's back like a demon as he picked the lock on 'Nightmare Central's' staff entrance. Two days' worth of stress and sleep deprivation left him certain of very little, except that his brother was here. This door faced the interstate and he tried not to think about it; tried to trust Castiel's hand on his neck, bleeding warmth through his jacket collar.

That touch was a shield, flimsy as it might be. Even with his scattershot abilities, Castiel still had the juice to hide Sam when the only way in was parked under a spotlight. Sam took the offer of his help. The longer Dean stayed missing, the narrower the odds and options became.

"Your Enochian is improving," Castiel muttered.

The corner of Sam's mouth quirked. "Tip your server," he said, putting a little more elbow grease into the etching. He tried to pick this lock the old fashioned way last night.

Castiel realigned the bones and knit the splinters, but his hands still ached.

"I don't know what you mean," Castiel said after a pause, "although I assume it's humor."

"It's not important," Sam replied, and brushed curls of paint and steel away from the diagram under the lock. "You said you've never tried this before?"

"Not on this scale," Castiel replied, "Larger. Uh. Exponentially."

Sam double checked his handiwork and rocked back onto his toes. "Okay, should be good."

Castiel's eyes narrowed on the little silver circle etched in the door, shiny with newness. "Take cover."

Sam glanced around Castiel's legs, at the empty span of parking lot.

"Behind me is fine," Castiel amended. His palm stretched towards the knob while Sam complied.

Power balled in Castiel's hand, throwing a soft blue-white glow on the door that brightened with every breath. Sam watched until the light was too bright to look at, and ducked his head.

October exhaled cold air on his skin like he'd just opened a freezer as Castiel's shields dropped away from him. Now they were truly exposed. Right next to a busy road with no cover, committing a metaphysical B&E with all the subtlety of an exploding star.

From his peripheral vision over Castiel's shoulder, Sam saw blue-white cracks spreading up the door and into the wall.

"Sam," Castiel said calmly, "get down, as much as you can."

Sam crouched, squeezing as much of his seven-foot self behind Castiel's body, forehead scraping the thick cowl of his overcoat.

He covered his ears, and the door detonated like a brick of C-4.

Through his hands, Sam heard the concussion; jerked even though the feeling of it never reached him. Rubble went everywhere, flying past them on all sides. The door scudded by on Castiel's left, curved by the blast and doing gymnastic flips until it reached the grassy berm between the back lot and the interstate.

"Usually bigger, huh?" Sam said against Castiel's shoulder.

"I'll show you the ruins, sometime," Castiel replied.

Sam and Castiel's phones lit up simultaneously.

Texts, missed calls, and voicemails from Dean rolled one after another, as if they'd all been huddled on the other side of the door.

> **[10/28 2:30 PM]** Onto something here. Clerks gave me the runaround big time. Also, could these guys BE bigger dicks? Even for teenage boys, pretty bad. Just leaving the shop, call me tonight.
> 
> **[10/31 6:55 PM]** Sammy you get this? Stuck. Phone says I still have service.
> 
> **[10/31 7:15 PM]** Voicemail LISTEN

"The cops are probably on their way already," Sam said, jamming his phone back into his pocket, filling his empty hands with his Beretta instead, "we need to move."

"Yes," Castiel said, tonelessly. He stared into the dark.

Sam skirted him, moving towards the ragged, smoking crater.

Castiel snatched his arm and pulled him to the side. "Wait," he hissed, "this is worse than I thought."

"What?" Sam snapped, pressed to the wall. He felt Castiel's shield snap up around them in a gust, warming the air where they stood.

"I was right," Castiel said, urgency rushing his tone, "it's Fae magic. But it's worse. As soon as we broke the wards, I felt angels. One of us, at least. Someone I don't know."

The last sentence whipped Sam's attention away from the dark hole in the wall. He turned to Castiel. "You don't know."

Castiel's eyes were wide with fear. "I don't recognize them. Maybe the Fae's kidnapped them; changed them somehow."

"They can do that to an angel? You said you don't get along."

"They're Eve's children; some of the oldest," Castiel explained, "They don't get along with anyone. If they're exploiting one of my brothers, I may not be able to hide myself - or you - from them."

Sam snorted. "Blowing a hole in their lair wasn't exactly stealthy."

Castiel shook his head. "Underhill is chaos. It shifts constantly. The Fae build doorways with magic between the parts they've tamed. We could hide from them for centuries, but not if they can track us. Sam," his grip on Sam's wrist tightened, "listen to me. If they find us, I'll lead them away from you. Find Dean, no matter what."

Before Sam could argue, Castiel dashed inside. He followed, spotting a dance of blue and red lights on the horizon as he ducked through the opening.

The explosion displaced a few boxes and shelves along the walls right beside the door, but otherwise the interior was free of mayhem. Sam crouched behind a row of boxes until his vision adjusted to the dark, then peered over, analyzing the space.

It was a stockroom, with metal shelves and bare concrete floors, identical to a million other stores. There was a card table in the middle, with folding chairs, a mess of plastic cups and a stack of pizza boxes.

Sam inhaled, expecting a nose full of garlic and toasted cheese.

Instead, he smelled autumn leaves. Frosty fir and the sweet scent of decaying forest. Too good, too real to be incense.

"This place is rank with Fae magic," Castiel murmured, "anything could be a trap."

Sam rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. All right then. Time to play boobytrap Russian Roulette. "Let's go. Dean's in here somewhere."

"'In here' is a relative term," Castiel said, and followed.

They scouted the entire Halloween shop, front to back, bothered by neither store owner nor police. Sam waited for encroaching sirens, but they never came. And that was bad. Every store, even discount fly-by-night Halloween consignment shops had an alarm system and cameras. The fact that this one didn't - or didn't care enough to notice - hinted at a different kind of security measure.

The kind with teeth and magic.

But as the minutes wore on and every door opened to boxes and cleaning supplies, Sam felt a mix of disappointment and dread. "Come on," he snarled at a shelf full of rubber rats, "there's a door here. There has to be."

"It's here, but we don't have keys," Castiel replied.

After a moment's hesitation, Sam holstered his Beretta, and ducked by an endcap stacked with makeup palettes.

He called Dean, who picked up before the second ring. _"Where are you,"_ Dean demanded, voice strained, _"Did they get you?"_

"I'm in the costume place," Sam said, relief pouring over his soul like warm water, "Are you okay?"

_"I've had the shit kicked out of me twice by ghosts and now I'm being hunted by a pack of dudes riding wolves. I'm peachy. You get my message?"_

"I just got them five minutes ago. Where are you?"

_"In the middle of a state park, maybe? How did you just get them? I sent those hours ago."_

"I don't know, I think this place was shielded. Until Cas blew a hole in the wall."

There was a pause. Sam glanced at the reception bars, still showing a good signal. "Dean?"

Dean's voice returned, low and sharp. _"Cas is with you?"_

Sam tossed a glance at Castiel, who crouched beside him. "Yeah, he offered to help me find you, but we can't find the door--"

A soft scuff echoed from the other end of the store. Sam leaned to the side, until one eye could peer down the aisle of costumes on the right of the endcap. The end of the aisle was empty and dark.

 _"It's the hand stamps, Sammy,"_ Dean said, _"they marked me, the little bastards - they carded me and stamped me and I didn't even think about it. It lit up like a Christmas tree when I left, and then boom, I was at a Halloween store in the middle of a state park."_

Sam heard the rustle of fabric, closer than the scuff had been. In the wan light from the storefront windows, Sam motioned for Castiel to follow him, and edged across the mouth of the aisle to the next endcap. The checkout line was always right by the doors. A few more feet and they'd be there. That was the likeliest spot for someone to check Dean's ID.

"Shields," Sam whispered to Castiel.

"Sam," Castiel said, sounding stretched, "they're not working."

Oh, shit.

Three wolves exploded from the aisles while Sam lunged for the counter, sweeping his hands along the surface for anything small and stamp-shaped. He'd expected a pad, maybe, and something wooden with a handle like the ones he saw in movies about libraries. Nothing came to his fingers but pens and candy.

One of the wolves leaped onto the counter, snarling and snapping as it straddled a register. Its head dropped towards him, ruff bristled, lips peeled back from wet, parted fangs.

Sam went for his gun, but not quick enough. Before he could draw, Castiel's open palm shoved into the wolf's neck, knocking its trajectory sideways. He followed that with a jab to the flank, and the wolf staggered, taking the register and most of the counter displays with it to the floor.

A little cylinder the size of a lipstick tube sat in the dim light, where the register had once been.

Sam spotted it, pounced on it and peeled off the cap. It was, indeed, a stamp. The self-inking kind, like the ones he'd seen at concerts and basketball games. "Cas!"

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Sam in the dim light. He held out his free hand.

As soon as the ink hit Castiel's knuckles, it lit up. The phosphorescent green glow reminded Sam, incoherently, of the glow-in-the-dark stars he'd wished for as a kid.

Before Sam could do the same for himself, Castiel's marked hand snatched his wrist. Then they were running, flying, the automatic doors of the storefront sliding open to the parking lot beyond. Sam saw the world blur to bands of color, then nothing, and he was falling.

Falling into shadows, and the sick-sweet smell of rotting leaves.


End file.
